Splendid
by Lady Aquinas
Summary: The story is back up.
1. Chapter 1

She walked the ship at night. Cold metal on warm skin helped soothe her and for those hours of wakefulness, while the others slept peacefully in their bunks, she was calm and lucid. Since the tragedy on Miranda she had withdrawn further into herself. Grief was a fog that hung over the crew members and she was battered by their pain and suffering, scratched raw and bleeding by the words and feelings they kept locked inside. Let them out! She wanted to scream at them. Can't you see you're killing me?

Blinded by their own loss they did not see the wounded look in her eyes. So she avoided them, leaving them to their tortured emotions. 

Captain Daddy felt guilt. A deep burrowing guilt that crawled through his veins and threatened to steal his soul away. In the beginning she had tried to reason with him, but her voice, her words, did not make sense to him. He pushed her away. She did not understand. Wasn't she his little Albatross? Wasn't she his good luck?

Zoe was resilient, anesthetized by her loss. Her eyes were dull, listless, deadened. She reminded River of the eyes of the Reapers. No one home, no one home. The first mate moved through the ship in a way that scared her. It was as if Wash had never existed. Zoe had pushed him to the furtherest recesses of her mind and locked him away.

Kaylee and Simon, although blissful in their new found love, both felt the loss of Wash and Book. But around themselves, they had placed their allegiance to one another like a shield. It soothed their hurt, buffeted them from their grief. At night, alone in their bunks, they held each other and their sleep was deep and soothing. River envied them. Her happiness at her brothers' tranquillity and joy was limitless, but it hurt her in a way she did not understand.   
She wished that Captain Daddy and Inara would allow themselves the chance to find the peace that her brother had with Kaylee. The companion tried to reach him but he did no see, could not feel anything other than his guilt at the death of his friend's. He would allow no one close to him.

Jayne. He was an enigma. A conundrum. She did not understand this man. She felt, heard and saw nothing around him. It frightened her and calmed her at the same time. With the others she could almost touch their thoughts they were so tangible, but with Jayne, there was nothingness. So she avoided him, unnerved by his presence, by the wall he placed around himself. Safety was found in the familiar, and Jayne was not familiar. He was a mystery and it scared her.

The voices in her head slept at night, tired perhaps after a day of talking to her incessantly. She had taken to sleeping briefly during the day. Simon worried she knew, but how could she explain it to him? How could she tell him that while he and the others slept she was normal? Or as close to normal as she was likely to get. So she walked the ship. She listened to the rumbling of the engine and felt the vibrations under her feet. Sometimes, she danced in the cargo hold to the sound of no music, her dress flowing around her as she pirouetted. It felt natural to her. Being fluid. In the calm of the night she became someone else. Not River. Not the girl that the Academy had damaged and torn asunder. With the voices gone and the peace settling over her like a shroud, she was free to dream. Free to imagine that she was somebody else, somewhere else. Free to imagine what it would be like to be like them.


	2. Chapter 2

The little dinosaur sat quietly in its place in front of the pilots' chair. From its position there it had a perfect view of the Black, and of the bridge. People came and went in the business of their everyday lives, but he was always true, always watching, always still. He was never happy, never sad, never frightened. From her seat opposite him, River watched him in contemplation, feeling as though she too was like the little dinosaur. People looked at her, but they never really saw her. Perhaps it was too much to ask that they look beneath the crazy exterior and see the soul trapped inside. Was she really any different to them? She felt. She hurt. She loved. Inside her mind resentment grew and festered. Anger at her own inability to communicate her needs to them ate away at her until she wanted to scream. To howl. To get them to really look at her. To really hear her. She often sat up here at night. She would think about the crew, the friends they had lost, her past and her future. A hollowness sat in her chest since Miranda and she felt at times that it would suffocate her. She did not have any knowledge of this feeling. She compared it to the emotions of the others. Was it grief? No. She knew what grief felt like. It squeezed her heart until she felt it would stop beating altogether. Was it loneliness? Perhaps. Although she was surrounded by friends and family there were times she felt distanced from them. Pain? No. Yes. She knew pain, the cutting hurting gut-wrenching pain. What other pain was there besides the pain of grief and the physical pain she knew so well?

She looked at the little dinosaur sitting tranquilly opposite her and searched his inanimate features for some key to help her understand. He merely looked back at her in his calm serene manner but did not offer any words of advice.

'Kaylee!' Mal roared from the ladder of his bunk as he climbed up. 'What the hell you doin to my ship!'

'It's shiny captain. Honest' she yelled back from his place in the engine room. He was only just able to hear her over the drum of the engine.

'Then why's she shakin so bad that it makes me think we're about to crash?' His voice was laced with sarcasm and he quickly strode down the hall to her. Looking inside the Engine room always left him somewhat bewildered. Tools lay scattered over the floor and Kaylee as always ran to and fro in a way that made his head spin. 'It's nothing Captain. I replaced a valve on the Port side thruster and she just needs to grease up all proper like.' She flashed him a smile that calmed him somewhat. She was the most competent mechanic he knew, besides which, he knew that she didn't wanna crash anymore then he did. 'Yeah' he replied gruffly, 'just you make sure not to crash my boat, got it?' He walked away before she could reply and missed the look she threw his way. 'Men' she mumbled to herself, 'just little boys grown big'.

Making his way to the mess he felt the ship shudder beneath him several times before she finally settled down. He released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Since Miranda he had gained a closer understanding of his own mortality and it made him nervous. He wasn't afraid of death. You couldn't live through a war and not come to grips with the fact that you can and will die. No. It wasn't that. What made him nervous was the fact that there were people on his ship that relied on him not to get them killed. A picture of Wash flashed before his eyes and for a second a sharp hand squeezed his chest and threatened to bring him to his knees. 'You ok?' Jayne's gruff voice brought him up from his thoughts. The mercenary sat at the table eating a bowl of unsavoury looking protein mix. A spoon sat precariously half way between the bowl and his mouth as he looked over at him. Straightening his shoulders, he walked into the room. 'Fine' he replied tersely. Jayne merely nodded at him in acceptance of his words and put the spoon in his mouth. 'We'll arrive in New Melbourne later today. I need you to get that load in the hold ready for transport. We'll drop it off around 4pm. After that, you've got the evening off.' Mal poured himself a cup of lukewarm coffee, turned around and sat down at the table opposite his hired gun. 'Shiny' Jayne mumbled his mouth full of food. Mal flashed him a look of annoyance. 'Ain't your Ma ever told you it was rude to talk with ya mouth full?'

'Didn't realise you was so concerned over my lack of manners Mal. I'll be sure to dress up real purdy for ya tonight. Say my 'yes sirs' and 'no sirs' all proper like so you'll be proud of me'.

'Hummp' Mal grunted, the corner of his mouth twitching at the thought of his big burly gun hand in a dress. 'Wouldn't hurt ya none'.

'I is what I is Captain. Don't see a reason to change now.' Pushing his chair back Jayne took his bowl to the sink and dumped in unceremoniously. 'I'll get that cargo ready now' he said over his shoulder as he walked out of the mess.

'Hey Jayne' Mal called after him.

'What?'

'You seen River today?

'Nope, why ya think I'm in such a good mood?' he chuckled leaving the other man to stare after him.


	3. Chapter 3

Sweat stained the old grey shirt he wore and beaded on his forehead. After spending the last hour preparing the cargo for delivery he was ready for the merchandise to be picked up and for the night ahead. It had been nearly three weeks since their last break and his groin came to life just thinking about spending some quality time with a woman. Stripping of his shirt he wiped his face with it before tossing it to lie on his weight bench. He fingered the scar on his stomach and marvelled that the moonbrain hadn't killed him. At the time he'd thought nothing of her attempt to hurt him, but after the events of Miranda, well, let's just say he knew she could've killed him had she wanted to. Crazy girl. Leaving the cargo hold he made his way through the ship towards his bunk. The closer he got to his bunk the louder the sounds of the ship as she breathed around him. For the first time in his life he felt content. Felt like he belonged. Even if half the crew were either crazy or had their heads stuck up their arses. Speak of the devil…

'Jayne. Got a minute?'

Turning in his stride he met the Doc's stare.

'What you want?' He grunted. Couldn't say he really liked the snooty man, but in a way he had gained acceptance of his role on Serenity.

'It's been awhile since you've had an inoculation, and as we're about to land on a new planet this afternoon I thought now was a good a time as any.'

Jayne glared at him in a way he thought was intimidating. Simon remained passive and unmoving. He had his gorram doctors face on. Nodding his head he walked back to the infirmary and sat down on the pristine cot in the centre of the equally pristine room. Simon looked like he wanted to say something about the fact that the mercenary had his dirty butt on his clean sheets, but one look from the larger man and he changed his mind.

'So Doc, what you got planned for our little R and R?'

'Actually' Simon began a smile on his face, 'I'm taking Kaylee to dinner'. He swabbed an antiseptic pad on Jaynes upper arm before injecting him with the needle he held in his other hand.

'What about you?' he asked the merc after not getting a reply.

'Me? Oh I don't know' Jayne drawled, 'probably go find me a nice piece of ass, a go se bottle of cheap wine and a decent bed in which to enjoy them both'.

He laughed at the disgusted look on the Doc's face before standing up and walking out of the room.

The delivery of the cargo went without a hitch and the crew went their separate ways. The town in which they'd organised the clandestine delivery was little bigger than a village, yet it still offered up the basic luxuries. Bars, food, hot showers and whores. River had opted to remain on Serenity for the evening. It allowed the others to enjoy a bit of freedom while she kept an eye on things, and it also gave her time to herself which she had begun to crave lately. Watching them leave she smiled. Simon and Kaylees' arms interlinked, Mal walked a good three feet from Inara, and Jaynes' tall frame walked in his familiar swagger that said: Don't mess with me or I'll fuck you up.

In the distance she could hear the faint sound of music and laughter. Lights had started to go on in the small town and as she stood staring at the departing figures of her friends she closed her eyes to breath in the solitude that surrounded her. A soft breeze ran its fingers over her skin and she sighed. It was times like this that she felt most normal. The breeze moved its tendrils to the long brown skirt she wore and blew it about her. Looking down at the material she was suddenly taken with an urge to spin, to twirl, to throw her head back and laugh at the pure joy of being alone without people judging her, or using her, or being blind to the fact that she was alive. Moving away from the hatch she kicked off her boots and felt the cool floor against her toes. Reaching the centre of the hold, she curtsied to an imaginary dance partner, and began to move.

The small motley crew had made it half way into town when Jayne suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. 'What?' Mal questioned him, his town downright cranky.

'Vera' Jayne replied. 'Left her behind'. A frown marred his handsome face at the thought of having forgotten his favourite gun.

'So what?' Mal said looking confused and shitty at the same time, 'it's just a gorram gun Jayne'.

Jayne looked at him with obvious disgust and did not offer any reply as he turned around and headed back to the ship. 'Not just a gun' he muttered to himself. 'Not just a gun.'

The music sounded so sweetly in her head. Mozart's Sonata 11 had always been her favourite. Her eyes were closed in concentration and she envisioned being held in the arms of the handsome stranger who danced with her. Humming softly to herself her movements were smooth and fluid as she moved around the cargo bay. Her skirt swayed around her legs as she moved, the legs beneath them slender yet strong. Simon used to love watching her dance when they were younger. He said that she looked like an angel.

Now she was just a memory of that girl. A broken angel whose wings had been crushed. Yet now, alone with her dreams, she was someone else. Someone beautiful, someone loved. And so she danced alone, pirouetting, demi-piling and souring free and true.

He made it to the edge of the hatch before he stopped. Standing half concealed by the door, he stood transfixed at the sight before him. She was dancing, gliding around the cargo bay as if in the grip of some magical dream. Maybe she was having one of her crazy moments he thought. He was no sophisticated gentleman an all, but even he could appreciate the beauty of it. He'd never seen anyone so graceful, so…. He couldn't find the word to describe her right then. And yet it wasn't her movements or her body that had him transfixed, it was the look on her face. Head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted. She was glorious. An image of her naked on his bed her head thrown back in supplication, soft moans coming from her parted lips, flashed through his head. His body reacted and he felt himself harden. He shook his head to clear them of these crazy dangerous thoughts. He could either walk in on her or leave. Part of him wanted to enter, to walk up to her and kiss those lips, to hear the moans he knew she would make. Shaking his head once more, he made his decision, turned around and walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

The whore's name was Jasmine…or Jennifer. He couldn't remember. Didn't rightly care either. She was soft, warm and had a great set of tits and that was all that mattered. Sitting in the corner of the room his right hand nursed a large drink of some shitty brand of grog and his left sat on the fleshy part of the woman's thigh. He was well and truly on his way to being drunk and it felt gorram shiny. The whore lent backwards and began nuzzling his neck. She smelt like cheap perfume, sweat and sex. He knew how it worked with women like this. Chances were that he wasn't the first guy she'd picked up tonight. Probably wasn't the second either judging by the smell. Didn't matter. He only had one use for her. Taking a swill of his drink he closed his eyes and lent his head back. The feel of the whores lips on his skin coupled with the potency of his drink was quickly lulling him into a feeling of deep relaxation. She wiggled against his lap and he felt himself get hard. A picture of a woman dancing flashed through his mind and he grimaced in response. Hell, he was a man. And crazy or not she was still a woman. He'd given little thought to how she looked before because he'd been too busy trying to either get rid of the crazy moonbrain and her brother or trying to avoid her. She wierded him out with the strange way she spoke. But now, now that he'd seen a new side to her, he sure as hell wasn't gonna feel guilty because she gave him a hard-on. Besides, he told himself, it only happened because he hadn't been with a woman in so long. It was a natural response. He remembered the look on her face when he'd gone back to the ship that afternoon. He felt himself get even harder and whispered into the whore's ear. The sooner he got his release the sooner he could forget about crazy girl. The whore giggled in response, got of his lap, took his hand, and led him to the steps at the side of the bar that led upstairs to her room.

Mal watched his hired gun be led up the stairs by the whore. There were times when he envied Jaynes' ability to simplify things. He didn't think too much about things. Sure, it got him into trouble sometimes, but for the most part it didn't appear as if he suffered guilt or remorse, or sleeplessness because his brain wouldn't shut down. Turning towards the bar he caught his reflection in the old broken mirror against the wall. The war had aged him in ways that no one could see. It had hardened him, taken away the naive young man with dreams of a bright future. It it's place it had left him bitter, cynical and closed off. The loss of Wash and Book weighed heavily on his shoulders. He knew it wasn't a burden he carried himself. He saw it the faces of those nearest to him. Zoe had disappeared into a shell of seeming indifference, Kaylees' smiles were no longer 100 watt bulbs, and Jayne…well Jayne was Jayne. And as for Inara, well he just didn't know. The woman mystified him. He knew that he was in love with her. Had known it for a long time. Yet he'd decided a while back that there was no place in his life for sentimentality. Hell, the war was over, but the events of Miranda just proved to him that allowing anyone too close was a risk he was unwilling to take. Zoe was a constant reminder of what could happen to him if he ever let Inara close. Over the time that they'd known one another he had built up a wall that kept her at arms length. At night lying in his bunk he dreamt about her, about how she'd feel laying next to him. And for the briefest moments when his feelings of loneliness are their strongest, he contemplates the 'what if's. His mind conjures all manner of possibilities, dreams, and desires. But with the harsh light of morning comes reality and he knows that his dreams were just that. Dreams. Lifting the glass of amber liquid in front of him he threw back the contents, pushed back his stool and left the bar. Outside a cool breeze blew down the length of the empty street. The sun had well and truly set and he stood in relative darkness, the only lights visible were those escaping from the windows of the buildings that lined the walk. He wondered briefly what the others were doing and as he started walking back towards the ship it occurred to him that he had never felt as lonely as he did right then.

Lying on an open patch of grass a couple of hundred yards away from the ship, Simon felt more relaxed then he had in a long time. Kaylee lay peacefully within his arms, her right leg nestled gently between his own, and her hand placed over his heart. He needed this. 'They' needed this. Living with the constant presence of others was not conducive to their relationship and being able to escape the confines of the ship was like a balm. Yet laying there with Kaylee he could not help but think about River. His guilt new no bounds at the suffering she had enjoyed while he himself was off following his dreams. Each time he looked at her he was reminded of his own failure and it chaffed him. During the last year he had discovered things he had never wanted to know, things that he was sure would scar him for life. He felt guilty laying here with the woman he loved. It had occurred to him many times that his sister may never know the love of a man, the peace of being able to rest with the one you love, the joy of being a mother and a wife. His heart broke for her. Hearing him sigh, Kaylee lifted her head and looked into his eyes.

'It's not your fault Simon' she whispered, a soft smile on her lips.

'How is it you always seem to know what I'm thinking?' he smiled back at her.

'Because I know you'. She reached out and traced the line of his jaw, her touch light and gentle. 'Because I see it in your eyes'.

'I have a lot to answer for Kaylee' his voice was guilt ridden and he turned his face away from her.

'It's not your fault' she said again, stronger this time. Her hand moved to his chin and she turned him to face her. 'It's not your fault'.

'I love you Kaylee'

She brought her face to his and their lips met. Soft and gentle, for she knew that that's what he needed.


End file.
